It is remarkably hard to write a non-trite Christmas story

I had an idea that I would try something new this year and try to write a Christmas story. It turns out that, in the short story format, this is very hard.

Of course, the short story format is an enormous challenge to begin with, but add in the complication of the sentiment and sentimentality of Christmas, you can either go sweet and twee, or you can go dark and maybe just end up wallowing in an obvious bit of cynicism or horror that really doesn't get anyone anywhere.

One of the challenges that Hollywood faces, that I've become acutely aware of, is that the message of Christmas is a generic "believe" or "fill yourself with the spirit of Christmas", but what one is to believe, or how one defines the spirit of Christmas (or what that spirit should then encourage one to do), is never really explored.

A New Excerpt from The Great American Novel - From Chapter 41

I've made a lot of progress on my novel since last we discussed how it was slow going.  The chapters are averaging out to about 25 pages, but some have been a lot longer.  Turns out I have a lot to say on this topic.


Kaya has been through a lot by this point, and while its definitely unfair to drop all of this on you context-free, I think I need to share a little bit of my work so I know its not just me doing this all on my lonesome, and that it'll be worth it.  I figure I'm probably about to hit the 2/3rds marker and head into what my film school teachers called "the third act" (although I have no actors, so I may be misusing the term).  But this IS a bit about character development, and as we were so plot heavy last time, I wanted to give some hints as to Kaya's past, and give the reader a chance to see a pensive Kaya in a thinking, emotional moment.


So, without further ado...  (oh, this is about 6 pages into Chapter 41).  


Oh, and, yeah, there may be some spoilers.

    The screaming outside the reinforced steel doors was immeasurably loud, but nowhere near as loud as the voice in Kaya's head reminding her that this was nothing compared to the heartache she felt knowing Drumicus was out there, too.  She fought herself, wanting to run to the big, red button beside the door marked "OPEN", but if she did, these old women and children didn't stand a chance.  She might, but not these little ones who had not yet been hardened by the world, and certainly not trained, hour after hour.  Not like herself.
    Her mind flashed to the cool mountain green valley and the pond that gurgled and burped outside the rice paper doors of the dojo, and the silly cat that lived on the grounds watching her, year after year, transforming her body from that of a girl to that of a living weapon.  There had been endless days and nights of sparring, learning forms and movement, but that was necessary if one were to become Samurai.  Yes, she was a prodigy, and Sensei Atoki always said she was the finest student he'd ever seen.
    But she never finished the training, did she?  No.  She had a weakness then.  A weakness she would not give in to again.
    The old women watched her in silence, no doubt remembering when their own stomachs might have been as taught and trim, showing between a leather sports bra and the gun-belt that rode her hips.  And the children...  some of them could have been her own siblings (twins!, she recalled), looking up at her just as desperately now over the frustrated shrieks of the Vamps outside as her brother and sister had once looked upon her.
    Dammit!  Not again!  This time, they were all leaving.  All together.  Vampires or not.  Something she had not been able to do for Krista and Kyle, so long, long ago.
   "What are we going to do?" Bryan asked decisively.
   "Well," she shook her head.  "I don't know.  We have to get these kids out of here.  And the old women.  This door only opens to the outside, and we know what's out there.  I've got about eight charges left in my Faze-Pistol, and the Katana of Dancing Dragons is thirsty enough for Vamp throats, but I'm still just one.  I'd make it, and maybe you, but not all these old women and kids."
    Bryan nodded his head mournfully, the long locks at the back of his head tied back now in the warrior's ponytail, like some amazing lost medieval warrior. "Still, its weird how much these vamps want these particular kids and old women."
    "They're just hungry," Kaya shrugged it off.
    So much loss! she pondered, considering Elvis's strewn remains left behind.  How much more can we endure?
    Sure, he's been made of steel and wires and cogs, but, dammit, he'd been her friend.
    "Lady."  Kaya turned, feeling small hands pull on the fringed edges of her leather shorts, just above the smooth, tanned length of her leg.
    "We should take the hatch.  Then we can leave."
    "The what?" she asked.
    Bryan lifted an eyebrow.  "What damned fool thing is this?"

The League's Guide for Incoming Freshmen

This week students are arriving on campus at the university where I work.  I work in a building (a library) where I studied as an undergraduate.  This building is across the street from the building I lived in with 2,999 of my fellow students, and where I now eat lunch about 2-3 times per week.  

When I left high school and entered the wide-world of higher education, it was quite a change for your humble blogger.  I was leaving a world in which I'd achieved academic success mostly by following the rules and bullshitting when I did not, but doing it with humility and a pleasing smile that seemed to keep me from getting my head lopped off on the many, many occasions that should have done me in.

College provided me with a new set of circumstances, new people with new perspectives, teachers no longer working from a regionally approved curricula nor with fear that saying things displeasing to the local moral majority would cost them their job.  But, I also left the comfy nest of a home provided me by KareBear and The Admiral, a place where meals were provided, laundry magically happened, and as long as I did my homework, promised to go to college, occasionally did the lawn and didn't get anybody pregnant, I was able to enjoy the benevolence of those who might smite me.  But it wasn't exactly training for college.

I attended the University of Texas, my incoming class becoming part of what was a roughly 48,000 person student body, which would jump to 51,000 before I'd departed with 5 years and 2 degrees under my belt and the perspective and philosophy that comes with time spent in a city-state dedicated to creating the educated individuals of tomorrow.  I never didn't love the institution.  Instead, despite the rough first two years I spent at the bottom of the GPA pool, I figured out how, at last, to get out of the school what it was offering.

And so, I offer up some helpful tips I wish somebody had told me when arriving upon the steps of the Ivory Tower of Education, some things that may help out the young The Leagues showing up at their own colleges and universities, all across the world this Fall.

My final days (as reported by social media)

A brief tale of social media and my final days, inspired by a conversation had with friends while watching the Super Bowl

-Ryan has checked in at St. David's Hospital (South) ER
-Ryan
"Ate some fish at the sushi place on Manchaca.  My face and toes are numb, and I barfed."
-Ryan
"I am tired of barfing."
-Ryan has checked in at St. David's Hospital (South) ICU
-Ryan
"Oh noes!"
-Ryan has checked in at St. David's Hospital (South) coroner's office
-Ryan has checked in at The Weeping Fern Mortuary
-Ryan

"Don't know if you guys have used LegalZoom, but I am way out ahead on this."

-Ryan

"Ok.  Jamie changed a bunch of stuff.  So no shrimp buffet, and they don't have coffins with airbrushed flames, but it should still be fun, so ya'll should come."

-Ryan

"Not many folks here yet, but we're going all night, so ya'll come on down."

-Ryan has checked in at The Pearly Gates
-Ryan

"Wow, this line is crazy.  Customer service clrly not a priority."

-Ryan

"Just noticed, I have no pants.  WTF?"

-Ryan

"This St. Peter guy is kind of judgy."

-Ryan has checked in at Firey Pits of Unending Perdition
-Ryan
"That went poorly."
-Ryan has checked in at The Hoary Hosts of Pandemonium
-Ryan
"I totally just saw Howard Taft."
-Ryan
"Just remembered, I was kidding about leaving my life insurance to @JefftheCat on the form.  I don't really have a corporeal form anymore, so someone should make sure that gets sorted."



and, scene

Just to be clear

I was kidding. 

I am not actually writing an entire book about post-Apocalyptic vampires and the women who hunt them.

But that doesn't mean you will not see future segments from this book. People seemed to like it, so I think if we just post snippets from the imaginary book from time to time, in our collective imaginations, this will be the greatest sci-fi book that never happened.

Excerpt from the Great American Novel Part 1

As mentioned, I'm on hiatus as I'm trying to do some other writing at the moment.  But since you guys often show up here to read what I write, I figured it might be fun to share some of my work with you guys.  Now, I don't want to give too much away, so I'm going to just share a little snippet, mostly context free. This is from Chapter three, so you're getting into the story a bit at this point, I hope. And the main protagonist has been established, and we're getting to know her world, a bit better after the initial conflict has been introduced.

Bear with me, because my tendency is to write quickly, get the thoughts down, and then come back later to clean up the language, grammar, fix pacing, etc... I'm a little sensitive, as this is really putting myself out there (you try sharing a work in progress sometime), but I am going to leave the comment section open, and I would, honestly, love your feedback. If you feel that you would rather the messaging be private, please feel free to email me.

So, without further adieu:


Chapter 3

   The wheels on her El Camino skidded in the dust, locked solid as the rubber slid over yellow dust into the road's edge.
   Elvis was twitchy, but when wasn't he twitchy? This much sunlight could play havoc on the gears of even the most expensive robot, and this model could have belonged to her grandmother when she'd been a girl in hydro-curls.
   "Clean your gears, Elvis," she said, removing her sunglasses to look out over the horizon.
   "Auto Clean commencing," the metal man droned tonelessly, the whir of pneumatic tubes humming gently. Dammit, she thought. Where am I going to find robot cleaner out here?
   The remains of Old Dallas rose on the horizon, a twisted mass of girders, a paean to an age drunk with its love of power, industry, wealth, celebrity and professional sports.  She's been lucky to be born in the years when people weren't into stupid stuff like American Idol and phoney music, but when the masses had begun to really appreciate deep and meaningful music from artists who'd been underrated in their age, like Pink and Ke$ha.
   All of that was now forgotten, lost in the haze of the third Darkness War.  The beauty of music had become a luxury few could afford.  Dance, all but forgotten.  After dark, when she needed the music most, she could only slip her earbuds into her pearly ears and let the music overtake her.  But if they heard the music, if the vampires heard the music, they would find her out here, and it didn't matter then if Elvis was functional or not.  And no matter how she felt about Ke$ha, that wasn't the last sound she wanted to hear.  Except, for, of course, the music would be drowned out by the gurgling of a vampire on her hot blood.
   The sun was already getting dangerously low, and as much as the broken city before her scared her, the idea of being out on the road, exposed like this, after dark, wasn't a good idea, either.  "We're going to have to go into the city, Elvis," she sighed, putting her Ray-Bans back on and tightening her fingerless-gloved hands around the leathery grip of the steering wheel.  "A-a-ffirmative, Kaya," the robot droned.
   Stupid robot.
   She put the car into stealth mode, the engine bursting silently and the wheels making no noise on the broken asphalt as she pointed the car toward the wrecked skyscrapers.  Inside the streets, the auto-car seemed to move like a panther, from shadow to shadow.  She knew of a couple of places she could be safe, none of them great options, but the sun was sinking, and soon, the vampires would be rising from their ultra-coffins.
   The door was almost invisible, buried in the wall of what had once been the arena for the Dallas Lonestars, Texas' favorite professional paintball team.  Long gone were the millionaires of the sport, and the whooping crowds that had thronged the stadium.  Now, it was all just a dusty memory.
   A blue light appeared from a narrow slit, cascading over her sweaty, nubile body, outlining the curves she never bothered to hide.  "Dammit, Bryan, let me in!" she seethed at the door.  "It's Kaya!"
   A whir of pneumatic pistons and a heavy iron clang, and the door slid open, Bryan on the other side, clutching a sledge hammer.  "Heya, Kaya," he said.  In long days and nights on the road, she had tried to forget.  He was big, broad shouldered, handsome and had a penchant for these ancient myths told in stories called "comic books" that she didn't quite understand.  Their affair had been torrid and satisfying, but she knew hoping for more with a dangerous man like that was simply hoping for too much.
    "Get your ass in here," he said, a mighty arm swinging the sledgehammer up onto his shoulder.  "It's almost sundown."  She padded into the room, Elvis trodding in just as the massive metal door shut behind her.
    "How bad is it?" she asked, once he'd sat her down, given her a mug of grog and put something resembling food down in front of her.
    He looked around, blazingly intelligent eyes looking for the right words.  "It's real bad out there."
    "We lose anybody I know?"
    "About a half dozen per week," he nodded solemnly.  "Those damned vampire bastards.  Ever since their scientists came up with the ultra-coffins-"
    "I know," she said, cutting him off.  "I know."  Her thoughts drifted to her father before she pushed those thoughts away.
    The green light of Elvis's motion sensor lit, and Kaya leapt to her feet, the katana in one hand, the Faze-Pistol gripped expertly in her shooting hand.  Bryan let out a belly laugh.
   "I think," he said, stepping away from the doorway, "I need to introduce you to a friend."
   From the shadows stepped a man, but not a man.  After countless years stealthily fighting on the front lines, she knew him immediately for what he was.  His skin was too pale, his eyes too dark, and his front teeth too pointy, revealing his true nature. 
   "Kaya, this is Drumicus," Bryan smiled.  "He's a friend.  And he may just help us win this thing."
   Dammit, Kaya frowned, lowering the katana and pistol.  Did he have to be so good looking?


So that's it for the scene for now. I hope I left you hungry for more, and I hope I didn't reveal too much. Thanks for reading, and I really look forward to your feedback.